How Writing Saved my life

People write a lot about things that saved their life.Sometimes it's a wonderful dog story, about
how the barking woke them up out of a sound sleep.Smoke was in their room, the house is on fire
and they run out! Rescued by a dog! Other times it's a person or an angel that
saved them.Often it's a mysterious
guidance, a hand showing the way, a person who is not a person picking them up
and spiriting them away.I wouldn't mind
being saved by a supernatural being. It's the kind of story you can dine out on
for a year.Make it aliens for the UFO
crew, or an angelic being for your fundamentalist friends.But in my case it wasn't my mutt, and it
wasn't an other worldly experience.It
was writing, plain and simple.

Let me preface this story by tell you how my life was, and
how it ended.Once upon a time I was a
mild mannered housewife with all of the accoutrements.I had a nice husband.He had a job.I had a son, I would say a "beautiful" child, but I think that sentiment
is a little over used.Mine was a
creative, handsome rascal.We'll leave
it at that.I had a part time job. We
applied for and received a mortgage loan for a nice house in a rural area.We had a church family, a belief system,
neighbors, even three dogs.

My life ended abruptly one day when my husband walked out on
me.He never said, "This isn't working
out, let's get counseling." He never told me what made him so unhappy that he
needed to do drugs. He never mentioned a trigger, never tried to work things
out with me.He just left. Leaving me
with lots of unanswered questions, and a very fragile sense of self.I had built my life around him, there was no
other center to my universe.After his
defection the remainder of my life cracked and flaked until my life no longer
resembled itself.

First to go was my church family.Acting quicker than myself he invited them
into our marriage, telling them I had "kicked" him out.He needed money, of course, to buy drugs.They innocently obliged.It was the Christian thing to do.They didn't know he was getting loaded.They thought they were helping him.When I asked them to stop, so he could hit
rock bottom, they thought I was being mean, as well as un-submissive, and
sinful.I didn't invite them into my
marriage, he did.So I could hardly
explain to them why I was doing anything.They fell away.

Next my son left.He
was an adult.I couldn't expect him to
stay in crazy land just to help me pay my bills.Then my job dried up, the company didn't have
enough business to justify my position.Ironic.I couldn't make my
mortgage on my last remaining part time job, so with a heavy heart I rented my
house to a family with better prospects.Then my dog died.She might have
lived longer if I had had the money to do right by her, but I couldn't afford a
doctor even for myself.

The last thing I had left was my sense of self.I started writing again after a twenty year
hiatus.I started posting my poetry to
facebook, and sending it to editors and magazines.At the end of another hard day, it feels good
to see an acceptance.Writing on info
barrel is free, low calorie and endlessly stimulating.You can read other people's work, you can
study, learn, friend people.You can
even enter contests.Writing is a way to
have a voice in a shut up world.